


Wrapped Up Like a Present

by E_Greer



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel
Genre: 5+1 Things, Avengers Tower, Bucky Barnes Feels, D/s undertones, Domestic Fluff, Embroidery, Fluff, Gift Fic, M/M, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Oblivious Steve Rogers, Sewing, Sewist Bucky, The Avengers (2012) - Freeform, inspired by vyshyvanka, Виши́ва́нка
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 13:07:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29701014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/E_Greer/pseuds/E_Greer
Summary: Bucky doesn't talk much these days, but he can embroider beautiful wrapping for presents.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Kudos: 44





	Wrapped Up Like a Present

Bucky had always been good with a needle and thread. When they were children, he’d patiently mended the torn and bloody shirts Steve had worn home from his latest fist-fight. Bucky’s ma had taught him to sew during the long hours of winter evenings. As the oldest of the brood, he’d been needed to help his ma with the endless piles in the sewing basket. Sewing rips in Steve’s shirts had been a matter of a couple minutes to save Sarah work when she got home from her shift at the hospital.

The embroidery, though, that was new. It had started small, a series of winding lines around the cuffs of his long-sleeve tees, white on white. Steve wouldn’t have known they were there, except that Bucky had a tendency to run the fingers of his right hand over them when he was distracted.

As the months passed, a sewing basket had reappeared in their living room, a plain wooden [wooden cheese box](https://www.worthpoint.com/worthopedia/large-15-antique-round-wooden-cheese-1823493595), just big enough for packets of embroidery floss, several needles with tiny eyes, and a traditional pair of carbon-steel [scissors](https://cdn11.bigcommerce.com/s-preq7eb8ko/images/stencil/640w/products/704/735/yhst-13307780324676_2217_61920505__37276__72266__40110__05578__75231.1583282173.jpg?c=2) decorated with a gold stork design. Clint’s ripped jeans became suspiciously neat and tidy, while the baggy seams of Steve’s modern dress shirts were miraculously taken in.

To Steve, this was all very normal. When they were kids, you used it up, wore it out, or did without. Of course there was a sewing basket in the living room. He only realized that it was old-fashioned when Bucky brought his sewing basket to movie nights in the common room.

Tony’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sewing?”

Bucky spoke not at all on most days, and very little at the best of times. In response to Tony’s incredulous tone, he merely raised his eyebrows and held up a white cotton dress shirt.

“Jarvis did explain how Internet shopping works, right?”

Steve was always up for a bit of trolling. “I thought the Internet was for sharing cat videos. People like Alpine.”

Clint snickered. He’d been featured in more than one Alpine video, as they both liked high spaces.

Nat threw a sofa cushion at him, and tucked her toes under Bucky’s thigh as she scrolled through the options on the TV. Nat was scary and so Nat got the remote on movie nights.

Only Phil got veto power over Nat’s choices. Tonight, Phil was busy reading over some last-minute paperwork, his thick black reading glasses half-way down his nose. He looked over the top of his glasses as Tony kept going.

“Yes, yes. Jarvis will order anything you need faster than you can mend something.” Tony rolled his eyes as he spoke.

Now this was base slander against Bucky’s sewing skills. Indignantly, Steve replied, “Bucky is damn good with a needle and thread, Tony. He kept us warm all the way across Europe.”

Bucky’s cheekbones pinked up, but he kept his eyes down as he embroidered blue wavy lines around the shirt cuff.

Ever the peacemaker, Phil gently interjected, “I’m sure Steve and Bucky know that Jarvis will get them whatever they need.”

Jarvis’s tone was dry. “In point of fact, Sergeant Barnes asked me to order the embroidery thread he’s using.”

Steve had conceded to cameras in the living room he shared with Bucky so Bucky could use ASL with Jarvis. Bucky had a hard time forcing words through the barriers Hydra had put in his mind. No need for an asset that would back talk, after all.

Huffing, Tony snagged Pepper as she walked by, pulling her into his lap. “Watch with me, Ms. Potts.”

Her eyes crinkled as she snuggled against Tony’s chest. “Of course, Mr. Stark.”

In the kitchen, the roar of the air popper died down as Bruce appeared with three enormous bowls of popcorn.

“What are we watching?”

\-----

The next time Steve noticed Bucky’s embroidery, it was on a shirt he didn’t recognize. The collar had been recut into a low standing collar, what they now called a Nehru shirt. When they were boys it had just been a shirt. Back then, collars were detachable, to save on laundry. Their Sunday best collars had been tall, stiff things that attached to the band, instead of being sewn in like the soft collars in modern shirts. For a moment, Steve thought that Bucky had just wanted a more familiar Windsor collar. Then he realized that Bucky was embroidering the collar itself.

A series of tiny navy blue chevrons was worked around the collar in a delicate cross-stitch pattern. Little hooks were sewn around the outside of each chevron, while the inside of the chevrons was filled with blue. On the dark blue field of each chevron, a paler blue had been embroidered in the shape of a circular sun with rays. In the center of each sun, Bucky had embroidered a teeny pale blue dot. Even given Bucky’s terrible sleep habits, he had to have been working on this for several days.

Steve cleared his throat, uncomfortable with interrupting Bucky hard at work. “Doing OK there, Buck?”

Eyes with all the color and the beauty of the morning sea flicked up to Steve. A strand of dark curly hair slipped out of Bucky’s bun, and he blew it out of his face. Steve resisted the urge to tuck the soft lock behind Bucky’s ear. Shifting, he tucked his hands in his pockets so he wouldn’t slip.

“That’s real pretty, Buck. I didn’t know you knew how to do that.”

Soft, lush lips quirked an almost invisible grin, and Steve firmly redirected his brain. Bucky didn’t remember much, and Steve wasn’t going to be that asshole. No matter how much his heart yearned for those long, lazy summer afternoons when they’d been pressed together in his narrow bed, sweat-slicked skin under his tongue--Steve knew better.

“Uh, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I was just going to order some food. I had a craving for that Sichuan Mala beef. Do you mind?”

Dark lashes lowered to delicate skin and Bucky shook his head. Steve hadn’t really expected Bucky to express another preference. He knew that Hydra had been uninterested in an asset with an opinion, that some of Bucky’s worst torture had centered on ensuring that he couldn’t make a request, even indirectly.

Instead, Steve and the others had followed the therapists’ advice to order a wide variety of food and drink and set it out buffet style. There was always more food than they could eat, more kinds of food than Steve had realized existed before waking up from the ice. Even now, their dining room table held two kinds of apples and three kinds of peaches, the sweet scent diffusing into their quarters. After months of urging, Bucky now helped himself to the fruit. Slowly, his cheeks had lost the hollow look of someone existing purely on tube feeding.

Bruce’s cooking helped. Everywhere he’d traveled, he’d learned a dish, and both Steve and Bucky felt obligated to at least try what Bruce set before them. Many evenings the scent of dhal drifted through the common room, drawing them into dinner.

After years of foul rations downrange, he and Bucky had both developed a preference for doctoring their food with hot sauces. Sichuan peppercorns had been a revelation, so Steve made sure that they tried many Sichuan dishes. Both he and Bucky ate a lot of beef to keep up their protein intake, and this was one of their favorites.

“I’ll order us some, then.” Biting his tongue to keep in the soft endearments, Steve turned away, looking for his phone. He very carefully didn’t think about how the palest blue in the embroidery matched Bucky’s eyes, or how the band of embroidery would draw attention to the tendons in his throat. Unconsciously, Steve licked his lips as he thought about tracing those lines with his tongue, Bucky panting underneath him.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he missed the way Bucky’s shoulders slumped as he stabbed the needle into the fabric.

\-----

After that, Steve saw Bucky in embroidered shirts all the time. Nearly every shirt he wore had contrasting embroidery around the collar and hem.

One striking shirt was [solid black with silver metallic embroidery](https://www.etsy.com/listing/467542684/mens-embriodered-t-shirt-ukrainian-t) in swirling loops around the collar and down the open front of the shirt. The placquet at Bucky’s throat was open down to his nipples, only a black silk cord tying it shut. If Bucky left the cord loose, crisp dark chest hair peeked out, drawing Steve’s gaze.

Around Bucky’s neck the collar was so thickly embroidered that it stood tight to his throat. Every time Bucky swallowed, the heavy metallic embroidery on the collar caught the light. Inevitably, Steve would lose his train of thought imagining the heavy embroidery under his fingertips, tracing where the heated silk of Bucky’s throat would meet the elaborate silver embroidery.

A [thin belt with matching embroidery](https://www.rusclothing.com/russian-clothing/traditional/kosovorotka-shirts/russian-shirt-black-cossack/) snugged the loose linen shirt around Bucky’s narrow hips. Steve spent more time than he’d like to admit watching the long ends of the belt dangle, wishing he could grab the loose tails and pull Bucky towards him, put Bucky on his lap and feel the heat of his skin through the thin fabric.

Instead, he looked down at his sketchbook, where he’d drawn Bucky in increasingly elaborate embroidered shirts. The black linen was an exception. Most of Bucky’s shirts were loose, gauzy white linen, so thin that Steve could practically see Bucky’s flat, dusky nipples. Determinedly, he did not think about catching one between his teeth and pulling, listening to Bucky gasp in pleasure, wordlessly trembling in desire.

Instead, he carefully sketched the minute details of the unique embroidery for each shirt. The dominant color was red, a sort of deep, dark venous carmine and Steve wondered if it was symbolic. He knew he could ask Jarvis, but he didn’t want to invade Bucky’s privacy. If Bucky wanted him to know, he’d tell him, wouldn’t he?

He did ask Jarvis to order more red and black pencils, though. Each shirt was more elaborate than the last, heavy embroidery in ever-widening swathes down both sides of a front placquet that Bucky had clearly cut and sewn to his secret standards. Repeated circles, squares, and diamonds were interspersed with [Tripilsky squares](http://euromaidanpress.com/2016/05/19/secret-ancestral-codes-12-main-symbols-in-ukrainian-embroidery/) and trees of life, tumbling down and around in heavy black and red thread.

Steve shifted uncomfortably in his seat, half-hard. In his gut, the deep ache of arousal built as he watched Bucky bend over yet another shirt, the needle flashing in the golden light of a late summer afternoon. At his throat, the placquet gaped open, and Steve caught the dark brown of an areola before he looked away.

He took a slow, deep breath and let it out carefully, willing his head to clear.

“Hey, Buck?”

The needle stopped flashing, and Bucky tilted his head towards Steve, eyes widened a fraction. His hair tumbled down his back, the occasional [small elaborate braid tied off with thick golden rings](https://somebucky.tumblr.com/post/185811559231/i-believe-he-would-have-warrior-braids-and-i). Natasha had begun helping Bucky with his hair, and the small braids were her idea. They kept Bucky’s hair out of his face, but didn’t require him to cut it. Steve didn’t think that Bucky would allow someone near his neck with a knife ever again. That was fine with him--he spent hours daydreaming about running his fingers through Bucky’s thick, wavy hair.

“Would you like me to read to you? That author you like, you know, the one with [the San Francisco shifter books](https://gailcarriger.com/series/san-andreas-shifters/)? They’ve got a new book out.”

One thing that hadn’t changed was Bucky’s propensity for science fiction novels. He and Steve both read voraciously, and Jarvis enabled their habit. Buying books for Tower residents was something Tony considered mere politesse, no more noteworthy than providing hot water. Once they’d enjoyed a book, Jarvis would track the author and ping them when the author published anything new. Steve had just received a notification on his smart watch.

A single decisive nod and Bucky was back to his embroidery, each tiny stitch followed by another. Steve picked up the delicate tablet and thumbed to the correct app.

“Colin knew they were going to cause problems the moment they walked in the door…”

\----

This was just fucking unfair, thought Steve. He suppressed a growl, but he couldn’t look away from where Bucky sat embroidering what looked like a silk corduroy coat in russet brown.

Steve and Nat had been out on a difficult, dangerous mission for days, tracking down a Hydra branch that had managed to steal some old Stark Tech, back from before Tony had redirected SI. Even Tony’s older war material was damned dangerous, and none of the team wanted it in Hydra’s hands.

All Steve wanted was a long, hot shower, enough food for a half-dozen normal men, and a day or two of sleep. He knew he wasn’t going to get that last item with this image of Bucky seared into his brain. He’d be fantasizing about this for the rest of his life.

Seemingly oblivious to their presence, Bucky sat in an over sized plush chair by the floor-to-ceiling window. A special embroidery lamp, ordered by Jarvis, was focused on the shirt in his lap. As normal these days, he wore a cream-colored almost-sheer shirt with the normal heavy red and black embroidery around the collar and placquet, this one in a series of diamonds and circles with little hooks on them.

What made Steve swallow his tongue was that instead of the usual soft cloth around Bucky’s waist, a dozen tiny little brass buckles fastened a very wide, heavy leather [belt](https://three-snails.com/blog/post/ukrainian-man-accessory-folk-fashion) around his torso. Steve wasn’t even sure it was a belt. It went from just above his hips to just below his pecs, lovingly outlining the curve of his slim waist. The belt itself was encrusted with tiny squares and rectangles of copper, silver, and gold, inlaid to look like elaborate embroidery patterns. It was beautiful and decadent, especially against the black silk pants that Bucky wore, cupping the thick curve of his thigh.

Steve desperately wanted to see Bucky in just the belt.

“Doing OK there, Steve?”

Nat’s voice was amused, though when Steve glanced at her with narrowed eyes, her face gave nothing away.

He coughed. “Fine. I’m fine. Yeah, I’m fine.”

He wasn’t fine. All the blood had rushed south, and his heart was pounding in his ears.

“I’m, uh, just going to go get a shower.”

Nat glanced at Bucky, who’d paused in his endless embroidering to glance up at Steve. His bee-stung lips were slightly parted and damp, like he’d licked them recently. Steve wanted Bucky to lick something else. Syrupy morning light filtered in through the sheers on the floor to ceiling windows, catching the golden highlights in Bucky’s long, chestnut brown hair. Bucky’s steel gray eyes were warm, and Steve thought he’d never seen anything more stunning in his life.

“Right, yeah, hi Buck. I’ll, uh, be back in a minute. Clean.”

Beside him, Nat looked at Bucky. Then she slowly pivoted to face Steve, face stern.

“Steve. Walk with me.”

When Nat took that tone, wise men trembled in their boots. Obediently, Steve followed Nat down the hall, visions of Bucky and that belt passing through his wayward mind.

In the elevator, Nat pushed the emergency stop button before turning to him, eyes flashing. “What the hell is the matter with you?”

Stunned, Steve just stood there, mouth open in shock. Intelligently, he stumbled through words. “Huh? Shower?”

“Steve. Did you look at Bucky?”

Blinking, he nodded slowly. “Yes? He was in the chair?”

Her tone was sharp. “No, Steve, did you really look? What was he wearing?”

“Um, a shirt, and a belt, and pants. No shoes, no socks.”

Steve’s mind filled with the long, elegant bones of Bucky’s feet, still attractive after all these years. He wanted to trail his fingers over the sensitive skin of Bucky’s arches, trace the prominent ankle bones with his tongue.

Nat sighed, long and weary. “Steve, he wrapped himself up like a damned present for you. He’s been doing this for months.”

“I...what? A present? For me? But we’re not. Not. Not like that.”

“Bullshit. You were like that, weren’t you?”

Pinned by the fire in her gaze, he could only nod, not trusting his throat to make the right sounds.

“Do you not want him anymore? Is he too broken for you? Have you changed your mind about wanting him?”

All the air left Steve’s lungs. “God, no, Nat. He’s the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen. I would wait another 70 years for him. I just don’t want to take advantage of him, to put myself where I’m not wanted. It’s not fair to him.”

Nat stilled for a moment and then began laughing so hard she clutched at her stomach. Howling with laughter, she almost fell over. Steve reached out to steady her, and she began laughing again.

Eventually, she choked out words. “You dumbass. He’s been throwing himself at you for months. He’s a fucking assassin. You don’t think he knows exactly what he’s doing, with all those gaping shirts and tight embroidered collars? Hell, I was tempted to sleep with him, and I’m plenty busy in my own bed.”

Steve stood stock still, thoughts tumbling through his brain. Images of Bucky in that black embroidered shirt, the white one with the circles, and the cream shirt with the belt.

“He’s...he’s doing it on purpose? He really wants me?”

Eventually, Nat straightened up, her eyes still twinkling with amusement. “Why don’t you go ask him?”

Turning on his heel, military precise, Steve marched back to the common room where Bucky waited, gilded by the morning sunshine.

“Bucky?”

Cerulean blue eyes, shadowed by outrageously long black eyelashes dipped and then looked up, meeting Steve’s stare.

“Would … would you like to get a shower with me?”

Steve’s breath caught in his throat as Bucky smiled, a brilliant tremulous flash of red lips and white teeth.

Low and dark, Bucky ground out, “Thought you’d never ask.”

\-----

One day, Steve came back from a particularly grueling mission in the far north with bones aching with frost. Not an inch of skin was showing on Bucky, not from the high embroidered collar that stood tall under his chin to the firmly covered delicate bones of his wrists.

It turned out that unwrapping Bucky was just as much fun as Steve had imagined during all those long, cold hours in the Arctic.

Bucky’s soft russet brown corduroy coat framed the length of his deceptively delicate torso, an ornately embroidered hand-woven scarf tossed around his long throat. Underneath, the high collar of his white linen shirt rose to the sharp lines of his strong jaw, the heavy embroidery stiffening the collar against his neck. The tightly fastened criss-cross ribbon in matching deep red silk enhanced the intricate embroidery on the placquet. Where the bottom of the placquet stopped, the heavy leather belt started. Heavy black silk charmeuse pants were tucked into high black boots.

Every time he came back from a mission, each layer of Bucky’s embroidered clothing was a new discovery, a new way to make Bucky shiver with desire. Strong hands, precise tongue, and hot breath let Steve lay Bucky down on their big bed and take him apart, layer by layer. It had turned out that Steve liked fastening Bucky into the belt almost as much as he liked peeling it off of him.

Eventually, Steve got his wish, dampening the gauzy cloth of the embroidered shirt with his tongue. He made Bucky moan with pleasure as Steve circled each nipple with a probing tongue. Words were few between them then, Steve ever attentive to the way Bucky ran his fingers through Steve’s hair, the subtle shifts in Bucky’s breathing, his involuntary shiver as Steve scraped his teeth along the strong cords in Bucky’s neck.

Bucky had helped Steve along by embroidering delicate little collar bands with tiny silk ties, revealed only when Steve removed the gauzy shirt. Sometimes there were matching wrist and ankle bands in soft black silk, with jeweled snaps and gold embroidery. Every time Steve removed a layer, there was a new surprise.

Today, under the jacket, the wide belt, and the thin shirt, Bucky wore a heavily embroidered [under layer](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/EgY4MIlXsAAEFBH?format=jpg&name=small), stiff with gold and silver thread, inlaid with semi-precious gems. Clearly, Bucky had designed and sewn it just for Steve. It began right under his nipples, playing peek-a-boo with those tight buds before tightening around his taut abs and widening to his hips, ending right at the vee of his hipbones. Steve couldn’t stop touching the silk, running his fingers over the bumpy embroidery, the glitter of the gems.

Bucky grinned, and rolled over. A wide silk ribbon threaded through reinforced eyelets, dusky skin revealed between each zigzag of ribbon. With trembling hands, Steve pulled on the bow at the top, loosening the weighted fabric all the way to the curve of Bucky’s ass.

“Sweetheart. Just for me? You’re so good-looking.”

Bucky shivered with pleasure, and Steve traced the knobs of his spine with his tongue, dampening the silk ribbon still tangled along Bucky’s back.

“You taste so good, baby.”

Knowing that Bucky wanted him to take his time, that these slow reveals were Bucky’s deepest desire, Steve moved upward, sweeping aside the loose tendrils of Bucky’s hair before pressing a gentle kiss to the back of his neck.

Underneath the bulk of Steve’s body, Bucky’s smaller frame quivered with pleasure as Steve nibbled, licked, and sucked his way to the delicate curve of Bucky’s ears. With a sharp intake of breath, Steve pressed his hips into Bucky’s ass as he undulated beneath him. Bucky’s ears had always been sensitive.

Pulling himself up on his elbows, he shifted so that he could roll Bucky over, the heavy under layer stiff around Bucky’s torso, even loose as it was.

“Bucky?”

Wide eyes looked up at him, the pupils huge as Bucky tried to focus on Steve’s face.

“Honey, you know I love you, right?”

A soft smile graced Bucky’s face as he whispered, “I love you too. ‘Til the end of the line.”

\---

_Several months later._

Light bulbs flashed as Steve made his way into yet another charity gala, Bucky on his arm. Honestly, he didn’t know how Tony managed to rope him into all these damn things.

“Captain America! Over here!”

Blindly, he turned and smiled towards the reporter. The snap of camera shutters increased, the sound nearly deafening.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“You’re wearing an interesting waistcoat tonight! Beautiful red and black embroidery. Who is the designer?”

Bucky’s hand tensed on his arm.

“Oh, it was a gift. Bucky has always been good with a needle and thread.”

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  Originally Published at: 2020-08-25  
> 
> 
> Thanks to [need_more_meta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/need_more_meta) for the vyshyvanka inspiration!  
> inspo photos:  
>   
> The wondrous [velvetjinx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/velvetjinx/profile) has dressed Bucky up for us! Look at all the tiny little stitches!  
> 
> 
>   
> 


End file.
